


a page torn from the story i'm living

by eliestarr



Series: moondust [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: And lots of tears, Angst, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Character Study, F/M, Not A Fix-It, Soul Verse, there's a smidge of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 06:19:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14785137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eliestarr/pseuds/eliestarr
Summary: When their eyes close for the last time, in different places across the galaxy, they expect that to be the end. They expect to bid goodbye to the universe and everything they love, including each other.But then they reawaken in a strange, ethereal world of orange, and they find each other.He thinks it's for good. She knows it's simply to say goodbye.





	a page torn from the story i'm living

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moriuh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moriuh/gifts).



> I don't even go here, and this is unbeta'd, so please be kind, or whatever. It's invariably messy, way longer than I meant for it to be, and I hope it makes some sort of sense.
> 
> Also, I blame everything in this fic on Mori. I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT, WOMAN.
> 
> In case it wasn't obvious: contains heavy spoilers for Infinity War.  
> Title from Dynasty by MIA.

Gamora’s fallen plenty of times in her life.

She’s fallen to her knees in battle, when the exhaustion and strain of it set in, her blade bloodied.

She’s fallen from buildings and off platforms while running for her life or saving the galaxy with the guardians— _her_ guardians, her family.

She’s fallen in love with some idiot from Earth in all the ways one possibly can.

All those times, she hasn’t know where it would lead or when it would come to an end. Every time, it’s been an adventure, a game of chance, a leap of faith where the other side—her future—has been obscured by a thick fog of uncertainty.

This isn’t like that. This time, she knows what’s going to happen. No matter how hard she fights Thanos’ grip, she knows how this ends.

Falling has always felt a little bit like flying, and Gamora has always loved flying. This feels like drowning. Submerged, head to toe, water filling her lungs to burst and pressing on her chest. Maybe it’s the slightly altered gravity on Vormir. Maybe it’s knowing what’s coming.

It swallows up her scream and forces her eyes shut, letting her experience something she always thought was a myth. Her whole life flickers and flashes in bits and pieces behind her eyes as Thanos shrinks in the distance above her. Like scenes out of a picture book.

Flowers in a field on her home world and her mother’s soft caress.

Mantis’ delicate touch as they exchanged a heart to heart about adoptive parents and orphaned childhoods.

Drax’s contagious laughter at one of their jokes that hadn’t been that funny, but brought them all nearly to tears.

Rocket’s fur the rare times he allowed her to scratch that one spot behind his left ear he loved so much.

Groot’s gentle hug, and the colourful flowers he grew for her and left by her bedside table every time something upset her.

Nebula’s teasing voice the last time they’d been happy, just two sisters against the world.

Peter’s smile, and feel of his lips against hers. The ghost of his fingers in her hair and whispered declarations of love against her skin. He’d been the first one to say it, and it had taken her a long time to be able to do the same. But he’d been patient, and kind, and never once pushed.

He’d waited for her to be ready to say it, to feel it, aware it had been years since she’d known what it was like.

 _I love you_.

Gamora wishes she’d said it sooner, or more often, but she knows from the look in his eyes that he knew, long before she said the words out loud.

God, she loved his eyes.

Eyes that were a bright, crystal blue full of love, and kindness, and respect.

Eyes she’d looked into for the last time today, and that are the last thing she pictures as the ground comes up to meet her.

* * *

Peter’s used to failure.

He got shit grades as a kid, and got his ass kicked by schoolyard bullies when things got rough with his mom and he started acting out.

Once he joined the Ravagers, it was no different. He was a clumsy kid, and dumb enough to pick fights with guys twice his size every time they threatened to eat him for sport.

He lost countless scores and missions after setting out on his own, plagued by bad luck. The same bad luck that brought him to the Nova Corps with a bunch of his fellow degenerates on Xandar.

But if it’s bad luck that brought the guardians together, then it’s the best damn bad luck he’s ever had.

Mantis, the only good thing to come out of Peter finding his biological father. With her earnest, kind heart and willingness to help those in need. Even if it’s just to sit and _feel_ the scars of his past without ever saying a word.

Drax, who never fails to amuse him, even when he’s frustrating as hell. Who has followed Peter into countless battles without hesitation, and is one of the fiercest fighters he’s ever seen.

Groot, who helped show Peter that despite Ego and Yondu, he _was_ capable of being a good father someday. That he had learned from their mistakes.

Rocket, who despite making Peter constantly want to strangle him, was more or less like the brother he’d never had, just in the body of a talking raccoon. He trusted the little shit with his life, even if his penchant for stealing body parts often got them in trouble.

And Gamora, who had been the opposite of everything he’d thought or expected. Who’d hit him like a ton of bricks both physically and emotionally, somewhere along the line. Who had taught him he was capable of loving someone unselfishly, with his whole heart, and who made Peter grateful every day that she let him be at her side. The fiercest woman in the galaxy, with the most beautiful smile.

Together, they’d saved the galaxy, they’d laughed and cried and been to the ends of the universe and back. They almost never followed his directions, they fought over the dumbest shit, and they frustrated the hell out of him sometimes, but… he’s also never loved a group of people more in his life. And feeling like that, well, Peter’s pretty sure that’s just what being a family was like.

And in the end, no matter how strong a family they’ve been, he ended up failing them too. He couldn’t protect them, couldn’t bring them out of this fight alive, like he swore he’d always do. Just like his mom, and Yondu, and even his dad, evil or not.

He failed his team by not keeping his cool. He failed the whole galaxy by giving Thanos the upper hand, and now they’re vanishing before his very eyes. He wonders if somewhere, out there, Rocket and Groot are doing the same thing or if maybe, just maybe, Thor has kept them safe where he could not.

But his biggest failure of all, the one that hurts the most as his fingers turn to ash and his memories to dust… is Gamora.

This is the nightmare that has plagued her for years, the possible future that’s always hidden in the back of her mind, or in the tense line of her shoulders. These are the fears that have kept her awake at night, that he’s tried to soothe with the gentle press of his lips and the soft kindness of whispered words.

He promised to protect her, to stop her father, to save everyone. And every word was as empty as his heart. Because he failed, and now she’s gone, and all that’s left is an ache so fierce he can barely breathe.

Or maybe that’s because his lungs have faded away, along with most of his body. Peter feels like he wants to cry, but he’s pretty sure there’s not enough of him left for that.

“Oh, man…,” he whispers as the realization hits. He’s dying. Just like his friends, his family. Just like Gamora.

As his vision blurs and the orange hue of Titan’s surface bleeds into a nearly blinding glare, Peter has one final, inane thought.

If only he’d gone left.

* * *

_What did it cost you?_

_Everything._

* * *

Gamora never expects to wake up again.

When her eyes close and she falls to the bottom of that chasm on Vormir, she accepts her fate. But the universe, it appears, has other plans for her.

Plans that involve waking to a skyless, flat world of oranges and yellows. One with a blindingly bright sun that holds no heat, and a surface of shallow water that isn’t wet. Gamora thinks it looks a little Titan, without the ruins of her adoptive father’s civilization. Maybe that’s why his voice echoes in her head.

 _Everything_. What the hell does that mean? It feels like an answer to a question she’s asked, but she doesn’t remember what or when or how.

So instead, she wanders, looking for signs of life, for what feels like an eternity. Maybe a few hours, a few days? She tries keeping count at first, but gives up fairly quickly. The sun is unmoving in the sky, and with no other way to tell the time, she has no idea how long she spends drifting aimlessly.

Alone. For the first time in many years.

Gamora wonders if this is what hell looks like. She knows full well she was never bound for anywhere else, and she supposes if not stopping Thanos is her biggest regret, her biggest fear, then it’s probably fitting that her personal hell looks somewhat like the barren landscape of his beloved, shattered world. That the punishment should at least somewhat resemble her long, extensive list of crimes.

At least until she finds the piece of _her_ homeworld. It’s the only construct in an otherwise flat landscape, and even though she hasn’t seen it in years, since she was just a little girl, she’d know the temple entrance anywhere. She stands beneath it for a time, fingers brushing the stone support beams that are unmarred by the horrors she saw that day, when Thanos and his Chitauri had come to her planet to _help_.

She’d never gone back to her homeworld after Thanos had taken her. She’d never even entertained the idea of it. Stepping foot on a planet she hadn’t belonged to in years, where her mother had been slaughtered… Gamora shudders at the thought. No, this is the closest she’s ever gotten to home. This quiet, lonely echo of her culture, of her people.

And then, just like that, she’s not alone anymore.

It starts as a whisper, as voices and screams all around her, echoing in the distance or right in her ear. Pleading, crying, muttering that sounds distinctly fearful.

One by one, people begin appearing, materializing around her. One moment the space around her is empty, the next, it’s filled with people of all shapes and sizes and races. Krylorians, Astrans, Rajaks, you name it. Some stand frozen; taking in their surroundings as she did when she arrived here, while others are screaming, calling for loved ones.

It’s chaos.

“Where’s my son?” A woman wails, arms held loosely in front of her. “I just had him with me. Where is he?!”

No one pays Gamora any mind as she weaves through the crowd, heart pounding in her chest. She places her hand on the woman’s arm as gently as possible. The tan skin is leathery to the touch, and this close, she can see the woman’s pointed teeth.  “Excuse me, where are you from?”

The woman blinks, eyes filled with panicked tears. “What?”

“What planet?” Gamora insists.

“Korbin.”

She turns to the next closest person, eyes wide. “And you?”

“Contraxia.”

_No._

The next three people she accosts are all from different planets as well, at completely different ends of the galaxy.

_No no no, it can’t be._

But she knows the truth. Deep down, she knew the moment she appeared here what it meant. She knew the moment she gave up the Soul stone’s location on Vormir it would come to this, in the end. And all these people? Well…it means they’ve lost. The universe has lost, and Thanos has finally done it.

_It means I failed._

“We all did,” a familiar voice says, and the assassin spins on her heel to come face to face with Mantis. Her smile is soft, a little sad, and one of her antennae twitches to the left.

Gamora barely hesitates before launching herself at the other woman, arms wrapping tightly around her. Mantis embraces her in return, and Gamora feels the hot sting of tears almost immediately.

“How did you find me?”

“My abilities are amplified by this place,” Mantis explains, her words like a strangled sob. “I sensed you shortly after we...arrived and came to find you.”

Gamora’s breath catches. She pulls back, looking at the tear tracks on the other woman’s face. “We?”

“Yes.” Her lips twitch up at one corner. “Come.”

Mantis turns, starting off in the directly she probably came from. Heart pounding in her chest, Gamora moves to follow. She notices the way both antennae are twitching now, back and forth at odd angles, something they usually only do when she’s reading someone, or listening to their thoughts.

“Mantis…”

“Yes,” she nods, and as Gamora falls into step beside her, she spots a quick grimace flash across the other woman’s face. “I can hear all of them. It is… very loud.”

Slowly, she glances at the surrounding crowd, most of whom are still calling for loved ones or freaking out. To hear all them at once… Her eyes widen, and she stares at the gifted woman with awe. “I can’t imagine.”

“I can show you, if you’d like!” Mantis says helpfully, reaching out. Gamora dodges her hand, smiling when she catches the mischievous grin the woman wears. They both know full well it would be overwhelming enough to possibly knock her unconscious.

“You spend too much time with Nebula,” Gamora chides her, and Mantis giggles. The green-skinned woman’s amusement stutters out instantly. “Is she here? My sister—is she here too?”

Mantis tilts her head, then shakes it. “No, I can’t sense her anywhere. I think we left her on Titan with the Man of Iron.”

Gamora frowns. “Who?” Her heart skips a full beat as she backtracks. “Wait, _Titan_? What were you doing on Titan?!”

“We—”

“Were trying to save you.” The words come from ahead of them, and Gamora tears her gaze away from her friend to see the man who spoke them.

Peter stands there, hair slightly disheveled and with a cut on one cheek. His jacket’s undone, one blaster is missing from his left hip, and the frown lines creasing his forehead disappear the moment she looks his way.

The tears in his eyes do not.

Drax stands to his right, and there’s two people she doesn’t recognize with them. She barely registers either of them as her feet put her in motion, moving her towards Peter, towards her family.

Gamora crashes into him, hard enough to nearly bowl him off his feet, and hears the huff of breath she knocks from him. Her fingers press into the rough leather of his jacket, digging deep enough to meet the muscles in his back and she squeezes, needing to feel him. Needing to feel that he’s real.

His arms wrap around her, pulling her tight against his chest, his own hands tangling in her hair. Peter inhales her scent, chest rising beneath her face where it's tucked into the crook of his neck. “I thought I… I thought you—” his voice cracks. “ _Gamora_.”

“I know,” she whispers against his skin, pressing her lips softly to a spot just below his jawline. Her words waver, and her vision blurs slightly with tears. “I know, I thought the same.”

She pulls away, looking into his eyes. His bright, kind blue eyes. Behind the tears she can see the same raw fear thundering in her chest, and the same love mending the cracks in her heart. The very ones that had been carved into it when she’d been torn from him in the ruins of Tivan’s collection.

Gamora lifts her hand up to rest against his cheek, and he leans into the touch, pressing a kiss to her palm. Peter’s hands settle at her waist, and she’s distinctly aware of him tucking his thumbs through her belt loops, as if anchoring them together. As if ensuring she can’t slip away and disappear on him.

She takes a shuddering breath before looking away, knowing that if she stays unmoving any longer she’ll drown in the sea of his eyes. Her gaze slides to Drax, who smiles at her. “It is good to see you, Gamora.”

She laughs, loud enough she startles him. And then she steps away from Peter to hug him. “You too.”

When they pull apart, Peter’s hand finds the small of her back like a solid, grounding presence. She know he’s reassuring himself, but she can’t help but feel grateful for it—because it’s anchoring her, too. It’s keeping her firmly rooted in whatever this reality is, and assures her it’s not all a dream.

Her eyes slide to the unfamiliar faces. One is a teenage boy, wearing a shiny, skin-tight suit with a spider on his chest. The other is taller, reed-thin and sporting fancy facial hair and a long, flowing red cape.

“Who are your friends?”

Peter chuckles. “I wouldn’t say _friends_ , exactly. More like acquaintances. Loose ones. The kind you’ve known for three hours, maybe.”

“Peter,” she warns, but the corners of her lips twitch up against her better judgement.

“Man, I recognize that tone, but it feels weird not hearing it come out of MJ’s mouth,” the teenager says around a laugh, stepping forward. “And directed at a different Peter.”

Gamora blinks, looking down at the hand he offers her. “What?”

“My name’s also Peter,” he grins, ear to ear. “Peter Parker, from Queens. Or Spider-Man, if made up names are your thing. This is Doctor Strange.”

“You can call me Stephen,” the taller man says, dipping his head. “Stephen Strange.”

“Wait—What?” The teenager laughs, whipping around to face him, leaving his hand hanging in the air between him and Gamora. “Really?”

“Yes.” The word is clipped, tight around the edges. “It was not a _made up_ name, Peter. It is, quite literally, my name. I am a doctor in New York.”

Gamora attempts to smile warmly at them both, looking to Peter for help. “I… don’t understand.”

“They’re from Earth, like me,” he explains.

“Does that mean all humans are confusing?” She grimaces. “And weird, like you.”

“Nah, I’m one of a kind, darling,” he winks, and she rolls her eyes affectionately. “But these guys _are_ pretty cool, I guess. You should see what the wizard can do! And the kid’s suit has these _awesome_ spider legs that shoot out of it! Doesn’t like _Footloose_ though, so that’s a bummer.”

“You know he can hear you, right?” Gamora lets loose an exasperated sigh.

The young boy pipes up. “It’s a terrible movie!”

“You bite your tongue!” Peter exclaims and Gamora sticks a hand out to stop him from advancing on the boy. “It’s a classic!”

“Classic? It’s like seven years—wait,” Spider-Man pauses, frowning. He narrows his eyes. “How old are you?”

Peter opens his mouth to respond, then immediately snaps it shut. Frowns. Lifts up a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “Uh, what year is it on Earth?”

Something like an elastic snaps in her mind, and she remembers Mantis’ words earlier as they’d reached the group. “Wait!” Gamora says, loud enough to interrupt whatever realization the two are having. “Earth? You found them on Earth?”

Peter stills, frowning for an entirely different reason this time. “No, we met them on Titan.”

She shudders involuntarily. There it is, the mention of that _place._ Of this place, technically. Or what it resembles. “What were you doing there?”

Peter’s whole face softens as he looks at her. “I told you—we were saving you…” He trails off, the middle of his forehead pinching. “At least, we thought we were.”

Her heart clenches.

“We got a distress call from Nebula after the fight on Knowhere. She told us to meet her on Titan to attack Thanos directly.” He nods his head towards the two new faces. “That’s where we met them. They’d stowed away on one of Thanos’ ships and crash-landed on Titan, hoping to take him out. We came up with a plan to get the gauntlet off. It was a good one, because I’d thought of it, but..”

Peter takes a deep breath, running a hand through his already messy hair. “But I’m also the one that screwed it all up.”

Gamora frowns. “How?”

“Nebula showed. And she… she knew something had happened to you. She said Thanos had taken you to Vormir, and he’d come back with the soul stone, _not you_. Mantis could feel his _anguish_ and I—” his voice cracks. “I snapped.”

“Peter…,” Gamora whispers, reaching up to slide get thumb across his cheek, gently.

“I went at him. I knocked Mantis’ concentration off and woke the big lump up,” he says, eyes glistening. There’s a wobble to his voice that’s somewhere between anger and pain. “Stark and the kid lost their grip on the gauntlet, and they’d—they’d almost gotten it off.”

He learns into her touch, face crumpling into an anguished frown. “We almost had him, and I fucked it up.” His words are rough, raw in his throat, and Gamora’s other hand comes up to cradle his jaw. His hands slide up to cover hers.

“Shh,” she soothes, her own lower lip wobbling. She sees the same hopeless frustration in his eyes she felt on Knowhere when Thanos had taken her, and on Vormir when she’d seen the end coming. She knows exactly how powerless he must have felt. “I gave up the soul stone’s location to save Nebula. I love my sister, Peter, and I couldn’t let him hurt her. I—I get it. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” he shakes his head, as much as he can between her gentle touch. “He beat us back and got a stone. And then he went to Earth and won. All because I—”

“Quill,” Strange speaks up, nearly startling Gamora. She’d sort of forgotten he was there—that any of them were, really. And from the look on Peter’s face, so had he.

She half turns to see the wizard standing there, arms crossed but sympathetic look etched onto his face. Drax is quiet for once, staring thoughtfully at them, unmoving. She has the odd thought that he might think himself invisible again. The younger Peter—Spider-Man, she has to remember to call him, otherwise it’ll get confusing even in her own head—looks sad, scuffing the ground with his shoe. And Mantis… Mantis seems to have disappeared.

Before she has time to question it, Strange is talking again. “It’s not your fault.”

Peter blinks, confused frown deepening his brow. “I’m sorry, were you not watching the same fight I was?”

“I was,” Strange dips his head. “And I watched it another fourteen million, six hundred and four times when I looked forward in time. This is the only instance in which we win. It’s what I told Stark when he asked me why I’d given up the time stone for his life.”

Gamora softens slightly, the echo of Nebula’s screams in the back of her mind. She hadn’t been the only one to make sacrifices, it seems. And if it had been meant to happen, well…

“Win?” Peter scoffs, sounding far less convinced. He holds up an arm to motion around them. “I wouldn’t exactly call this winning. There’s no cheering or fanfare or rewards being thrown our way. Instead, we’re trapped in… in…”

He pauses, pressing his lips together and glancing down at her and dropping his voice nearly to a whisper. “Where are we, exactly?”

She takes a deep breath. This is the conversation she’s been dreading, because she has no idea how he’ll take it. How any of them will. “I think we’re dead.”

Peter blinks at her, the kid’s jaw drops, Strange sighs in a way that pretty much confirms it and Drax…

Drax erupts into loud, roaring laughter, holding his stomach as he doubles over. “Dead!” He exclaims, and Spider-Man glances around nervously, eyes darting at the surrounding people. “Gamora, please, you think we’re—”

_Thwip!_

Drax’s voice cuts off, and Gamora’s brows rise high on her forehead as she spots the splash of white webbing across his lips. He scowls, clawing at it, and Spider-Man winces, taking a step back and putting his hands up at his sides, palms flat.

“Sorry,” the kid says softly. “I didn’t want you to spook anyone!”

Drax grumbles as he wipes the rest of the webbing off, eyes narrowing at the boy. Beside her, Peter tenses as if he’s about to step in and defend the boy, but the warrior’s shoulders relax into a sigh as he regains the use of his mouth. He turns to her, looking amused. “Gamora, that is impossible! If we were dead, could I do this?”

He pulls the blade from the sheath at his hip, and everyone takes a step forward, the warning building on their tongues. Drax is faster. He wipes the edge of the blade across his forearm, and they watch as absolutely nothing happens. Drax’s eyes widen almost comically. “Oh.”

“Now do you believe me?” Gamora says, sighing. It’s not like she wanted to be right.

“That’s crazy,” Peter shakes his head, and at the warm, featherlight touch on her lower back, she looks up at him quizzically. “Isn’t it?”

“You don’t believe in the afterlife, Mr Quill?” Spider-Man speaks up, and Gamora does her best to hold back a smile at the title. There’s the tiniest pinch of skin between Peter’s brows, but he moves smoothly past it.

“I do, but not one where a bunch of ex-criminals and assassins end up with…,” his hand drifts from them over to Spider-Man and Strange, and he frowns. “Well, whatever you and the wizard are.”

Spider-Man smiles brightly, ear to ear. “I’m an Avenger.”

“A what?” She asks, looking between them, wondering if perhaps this is another unfamiliar Earth custom. Peter looks just as confused as she is, however.

“An Avenger,” an unfamiliar voice answers her. She watches shock wash over Spider-Man’s face, and slowly, she and Peter turn to see a new group of people have arrived, led by Mantis. It explains where she’d run off to.

Next to her is the man who spoke, a dark-skinned man in what appears to be a flight suit, if the wings tucked behind him are of any indication. “It’s what we call ourselves,” he continues; and then let’s loose a small, derisive chuckle. “Some of us, anyway.”

“Heroes of Earth!” Mantis says brightly.

Behind him stand four others. A petite woman in red, a dark-skinned man in a skintight black suit and claws, and a tall, shaggy-looking man with a metal arm and tiredness years beyond his physical age in his eyes. Between them is a tree Gamora would recognize anywhere in the universe, and suddenly she understands why Mantis wandered off in search of them.

“Groot!” She says, voice coming out a relieved sob. Her arms have barely outstretched before he collapses into them, wrapping himself around her.

“I am Groot!” He wails. _Mom!_ The single word sounds so sad, so broken that Gamora’s heart shatters with it.

“It’s okay, baby,” she soothes, rubbing her hand along the vines at his back. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

She glances up at Mantis. “Rocket?”

The other woman looks sad, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I cannot sense him.”

Groot lets loose another awful cry in her arms, and Gamora closes her eyes, taking a heavy breath. She doesn’t know whether or not she should be happy he survived this cursed world, but her heart breaks a little more at the thought of him alone, not knowing what happened to them.

Peter joins them, arms wrapping around them both, holding them close. Mantis and Drax, too. They stay like that for a time.

She’s sure it must be a strange sight for the Avengers, who stand awkwardly to the side and greet one another. It’s clear that Spider-Man knows them, but Strange is introduced slowly to the group.

And eventually, so are the Guardians. Sam, Wanda, T’Challa and Bucky. They have other names, too. Made up ones, like both Peters. Gamora decides it really is just a strange Earth custom.

Both groups eventually exchange stories, of growing pains and miracles and adventures together, on Earth or in space, sometimes even through time. They talk of the friends they left behind, of the final battles that were fought and ultimately lost.

Strange has assured them this is the timeline in which they win. In which their friends (the other Avengers and the small sprinkling of Guardians that Rocket and Nebula bring to the table) figure out a way to beat Thanos and reverse what he’s done to the universe.

It’s only a matter of time.

Talking connects them, brings them to some sort of common ground, maybe makes them friends. And it distracts them, keeps them focused and anchored here and now. It passes the time. It eases all of them into a relaxed state of calm, where they don’t think about the reality they’re stuck in or what any of it means.

Well, maybe the others don’t. For Gamora, it’s all she can think about.

Every now and then, she hears a whisper or an echo of words in the distance that she can’t quite make out. But she knows the voice that speaks them all too well, from the depths of her nightmares and the horrors of her childhood.

Every time she hears it, there’s this sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. A worry that gnaws at her nerves and eats away at her. She knows they’re not just dead. She knows they’re inside the soul stone. But the fact that she can obviously grasp ripples of the outside world—of Thanos, at the very least—when no one else can doesn’t bode well for her.

There’s a reason she arrived here first, before the others appeared. There’s a reason she can hear him, why his whispers are becoming from frequent and panicked. She can feel it in her very bones. Time is running out, and she knows what’s coming. Or rather, what’s going.

And what’s staying.

She told the Guardians once that she would be happy to die among her friends. It’s a wish that Thanos took away from her on Vormir. But dying among family? That she can still choose for herself.

And so, she makes a decision.

One that requires a quiet conversation with the wizard Strange, a little walk with Mantis to collect something vital, and every ounce of courage Gamora has.

“Peter,” she says softly. He draws his eyes away from watching Bucky and Drax arm wrestle and smiles at her.

“What’s up, babe?” The words are barely out of his mouth when he notices the person she and Mantis have returned with and his smile drops.

The woman is elderly, far shorter than Gamora, wearing long red robes with a pattern matching the designs on the archway above them and green skin that matches the assassin herself.

“Who is this?” Peter asks quietly, getting to his feet. Strange follows suit, hovering not too far from them. The rest of the group falls into a hushed silence.

“This is Zaera,” she explains. “She is a priestess… from my homeworld.”

Peter’s eyes widen, and Gamora’s heart hammers a nervous beat in her chest. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but glances between the two women and closes it just as quickly. She can tell he doesn’t know what to make of this. Truthfully, neither does she. But she knows she wants to do this properly, in a way that means something to them both.

She reaches out with her left hand, and Peter moves closer without question, linking the fingers of his own with hers. Her right hand taps against her thigh, a steadying _one-two, one-two_ that she tries to sync her heartbeat to. She takes a deep breath.

“Do you remember when you told me about a dream you had, as a child on Earth? The one where your father returned to you and your mother, and they celebrated their union in a joining ceremony?”

“You mean the one where they married?” He says carefully, and she can hear the uncertainty trembling in his voice. He drops it almost to a whisper, eyeing the group around them. “Why do you always bring up things I told you while drunk when we’re surrounded by people it can embarrass me in front of?”

“Because of what you said after the story,” Gamora replies. “Do you remember what you promised?”

He nods, still frowning. “I promised I would do right by you. I told you I wanted to spend the rest of our lives together, and that when the time was right, I was going to ask you to…”

She hears Peter’s breath catch, and watches the realization dawn on him as he takes in the priestess on one side, and Strange on the other. He blinks repeatedly at her, disbelief clear on his face. “Now?” He breathes, fingers curling tighter around hers. “Really?”

“We’re never going to closer or more connected to one another then we are right now, in this place, with people from my planet and yours at our side.” Both Strange and Zaera smile, dipping their heads to him.

Their left hands are still intertwined, and she gives it a squeeze, trying very hard not to let anything but love show on her face. She can almost hear the ticking clock in the back of her mind, but she ignores it, smiling brightly at him. “I know this might not be what you had in mind, and that it’s very different than customary Earth unions, but… when have we ever been a conventional family?”

She watches his eyes glisten in the low sun as he lets loose a wet chuckle. “Never.”

“So? What do you say?” Gamora tilts her head. “Will you marry me?”

“God, yes.” Peter’s smile eclipses his whole face. “I’d love nothing more.”

Slowly, the others rise and gather. Drax stands by Peter’s shoulder, flanked by Spider-Man, Bucky and Sam. Behind her, Mantis and Groot hold one another tightly, with Wanda and T’Challa looking on.

Gamora wishes Rocket and Nebula were here. He’ll be upset he didn’t get to give a speech, and her sister will be angry she couldn’t object when the time came. The thought brings a choked laugh out of her.

Peter raises one brow. _Are you okay?_

“Nebula’s going to kill you,” she smiles.

His face pales. “Shit.” Glancing at Zaera and Strange, he chuckles nervously. “So, uh, which one of us starts?”

Strange approaches, clearing his throat and looking between them. “It’s probably a long shot to ask if you have rings, isn’t it?”

Gamora pulls away from him, slipping the ring off her left thumb and holding it up. It should just be big enough. “I know it’s not the same, but—”

“I’d be honoured,” Peter whispers, but he still looks sad. “But what about you? On the ship, in my bedroom drawer, I have…”

He trails off, cheeks tinted pink. Gamora’s heart sinks. He really had been planning for it, one day. When had he found the time?

“I am Groot!” A small voice chimes in, and Gamora looks down to see him at her elbow. _I can help!_

He reaches up, branches snapping and popping as they rearrange in the middle of his hand. A moment later, a small band of curled vines sits in his palm, with a small golden flower at the centre.

Gamora’s eyes water, and Peter leans over, plucking the ring from Groot’s hand. “Thanks, kiddo,” he says, softly patting the teenage tree on the cheek.

“I am Groot,” he grins up at them, stepping back to Mantis’ side. _You’re welcome._

“Rings, check,” Peter says, looking over at Strange.

The wizard chuckles, then clears his throat. “It’s been quite a long time since I’ve been asked to do this, so I’d like to apologize if I’m a little rusty.” He takes a deep breath, smiling at them both. “I don’t know either of you very well. I’m sorry to say that means I don’t know the history between you two or the kind of stories that make this ceremony more personal.”

“What I do know, however, is what love looks like,” he continues, pressing his hands together and shifting so that his fingertips touch the end of opposite palms. A moment later, he pulls them apart, and a series of pink and red lights float away from him. As they surround her and Peter, Gamora notices they’re shaped like small hearts.

“To see a man fight with everything he has to rescue someone, even when the odds are against him, is truly something. Not only that, but watching the two of you interact—watching the way you move together, nearly in sync, as if locked in a dance…” The lights explode into small, brightly coloured fireworks. “It’s almost magical.”

Gamora snorts, shaking her head. Peter seems giddy, ever a fan of puns and wordplay, but his eyes haven’t left hers. He’s seems far more enamored with her than anything else around them.

“But we’re not here to listen to me talk about the two of you—we’re here to marry you.” Strange grins. “Quill?”

The blonde startles, blinking a few times at the other man, brows raised into his hairline. “Oh, what? Me first?” He licks his lips, letting out a nervous chuckle. “Okay. Okay, yeah.”

Peter clears his throat, squares his shoulders. He reaches out with the hand not holding a ring, taking hers and rubbing a calloused thumb gently across her knuckles.

“Gamora,” he starts, and her name sounds almost soft on his lips. “I’ve had a lot of bad luck over the course of my life. My mom, Yondu and the Ravagers, my galaxy-eating planet of a father. But through all that, I’ve had some of the best luck of all time, because I met you. And the other Guardians, but I’m not marrying them, so I’m gonna cut them out.”

She laughs, and it causes a massive grin to blossom on his lips. _Mission accomplished_ , she can almost hear him say.

“I’m lucky, because I’ve gotten to look at you every day for the last four years, and be in the presence of the strongest, fiercest woman in the galaxy. I’ve been honoured to have the best dance partner anyone could’ve ever asked for, and I’ve learned a lot from you. I’ve learned about strength and courage, against all odds, and the kind of respect that lasts a lifetime. I’ve learned what true, unselfish love for another person feels like, something I wasn’t very good at before I met you.”

He pauses, drawing in a deep breath and gently holding her hand up, approaching with the ring. Her eyes mist with tears.

“You’re my best friend, Gamora,” Peter says softly. “You’re my girlfriend. And I’m the luckiest man in the universe, because now I get to call you my wife.”

He glances briefly at Strange, who nods, and then he slides the ring onto her finger. His eyes glisten, but the smile he wears is bright and happy, stretching ear to ear. Her lips curve up to match his, and she takes a deep breath.

“I love you, Peter Quill, more than anything else in the universe,” she says, voice wavering only a little as a weight lifts from her chest at the chance to say it properly, and not as a goodbye. Well, not right away at least. “Meeting you was the best thing to ever happen to me. You showed me what real love was like, when I had only ever known a shadow of it. You helped me understand what a real family was like, with people that cared for one another and were willing to do anything to make each other happy and safe.”

She holds up his hand, the one she’s meant to put the ring on, and presses it against her chest, over her heart. “Most importantly, you helped me find myself. To figure out who I was on my own, and not who I’d been raised to be. You and the Guardians were a source of light and warmth in a life that had been marred by horrors for too many years, and you gave me the strength to pull away from that darkness and save myself.”

Gamora lowers his hand, and slips her ring onto his finger, smiling when she sees she guessed right—a perfect fit. “Thank you for four years of peace, Peter.”

Her gaze slides away from him answering look of love, and towards the priestess. Gamora nods, and Zaera approaches them, brandishing a strip of cloth taken from her robes. She begins winding it around their left hands, tying them together at the wrist, palms facing outwards.

She whispers words of ceremony in a language Gamora barely remembers, making her grateful for the implant designed to translate for her. She comes to a stop part way through, looking at Gamora with pursed lips.

“What’s wrong?” Gamora frowns.

“I cannot complete the ceremony,” Zaera admits, sounding sad. “I cannot brand you.”

“You can’t _what?”_ Peter squawks.

Gamora sighs, nodding. She’d forgotten. She looks up at Peter, mirroring Zaera’s sad, pinched face. “On my homeworld, we don’t exchange rings. A circle is instead branded upon your palm when you are wed, to signify the everlasting bond. Given where we are… I didn’t think.”

She’s disappointed in herself. She wanted to connect them in both their cultures, and knew that hers would be a permanent memory, even if she fades away and is forgotten.

Strange steps forward, clearing his throat. “Maybe I can help.”

He presses his hands together for a moment, then folds some of his fingers and pulls away. A flame erupts in the palm of one hand, and he looks across them, to Zaera. “What do I have to do?”

The priestess smiles, waving him forward. He comes around the couple to stand at her side and as Zaera explains, Gamora translates for her.

“Seems simple enough,” Strange nods. He lifts the sleeve of the arm holding the flame, and leans closer, aiming for Peter’s hand.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Peter laughs, moving their intertwined hands away from him. “Hang on, are sure this’ll work?”

“Positive. My magic still works here.”

“Okay, but are we sure this’ll be permanent?” Peter elaborates. “Like transfer to the outside world permanent.”

Gamora worries for a split second that he’s having second thoughts, but he catches the look on her face and smiles a little nervously. “I wanna make sure we’re doing this right.”

She mirrors his grin.

“Mostly,” Strange hums.

“Mostly?” Peter raises a brow, eyes flicking back to the wizard. “Gee, that’s comforting. Do you also _mostly_ have steady hands, or is my wedding band gonna look like a butt?”

Loud, raucous laughter erupts behind Peter, and Gamora glances past him to see Drax leaning on Bucky and Sam for support, wiping tears from his eyes.

“It wasn’t that funny,” Bucky says, frowning.

Sam has a hint of a smile pulling his lips upwards. “It was kinda funny.”

“It was hilarious! I was just thinking,” Drax says between laughs. “That if he were to wear a butt on his hand—we could call him Butt-Lord!”

Peter looks unimpressed, lips pursed. Gamora can’t help but smile, but let’s none of it show in her voice when she barks: “Drax!”

“Right, right. Sorry,” he nods as his amusement dies down. “It is rude to interrupt a most fortuitous marriage ceremony. On my world, it would mean death.”

Bucky and Sam both freeze, blinking and exchanging glances around Drax’s head.

Strange clears his throat again. “I was a world-renowned surgeon on Earth. I have the steadiest hands you’ll ever find.”

“Was? Like, gave it up to do kids’ birthday parties? Or got kicked out for showing up to work in a Harry Houdini get-up?”

Gamora sighs, moving their hands so her palm faces upwards instead of Peter’s. “Just start with me. He’s nervous about the pain.”

Strange chuckles, stepping closer as Peter stammers out a half-hearted denial. As she grits her teeth and the flame touches her palm, sizzling and burning, he squeezes her other hand. “You know, being stronger than me is absolutely one of your most attractive qualities.”

“I know,” she grins. “Why else would you have thrown yourself into space for me after barely knowing me a day and a half?”

His answering laugh is bright and full of life, and just as breathtaking as always. “I told you—I found something heroic in me.”

Gamora swears her heart grows three sizes. “Yes,” she says softly, sliding her hand out of his grip and bringing it up to rest against his cheek. “You did, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t break eye contact as Strange starts on his palm. Just winces slightly, leaning into her touch and taking a sharp, hissing breath. It’s over in a moment and they’re left staring at two perfect circles on their palms, healed by the wizard’s abilities to already look like scar tissue.

Zaera unties them, holds them palm to palm and whispers a final few ceremonial prayers. Strange returns to his earlier position across from her, and when she finishes, letting the cloth fall away as she releases them, she nods towards him.

“By the power vested in me by the state of New York, and I think, by your homeworld,” he smiles at Gamora, “we pronounce you; _married_.”

The group gathered around them cheers and claps, as do some onlookers they’ve collected during the process.

Peter smiles, big and bright, eclipsing his whole face. He reaches out, hands sliding across Gamora’s forearms and then dropping to wrap around her waist as he steps forward. He pulls her close, breath ghosting over her face, and offers her a wink before he dips her backwards.

Her fingers snake up and tangle in his curls in response, and she kisses him fervently before he has the chance to initiate it. Like she’s drowning and he’s her very air, like his importance to her could somehow translate across the desperate embrace. _I love you_ and _I’m sorry_ and _thank you_ words she cannot fully form, but hopes to press against his lips in a way he’ll understand.

She kisses him like this is the last time she’ll ever get the chance. Because Gamora knows, in the depth of her aching heart, that it is. The whispers have been building like the crescendo of a song in the back of her head, the same way they had before everyone had appeared. All those hours or days or weeks ago.

Any moment now, there’ll be a _snap_ and—

“Gamora?” Peter says, and he sounds concerned.

She opens her eyes to find him standing there, worry evident on his face. Her face feels wet, and she realizes, as he reaches up to brush away tears, that she’s crying.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, a nervous chuckle leaving him.

“Nothing,” she breathes. It’s the first time she’s ever lied to him. She supposes it’s fitting it should be the last time, too. “I love you.”

That’s when the noise starts.

Shouting and hollering as people begin disappearing. There’s only a few of them at first, but she can see the others look around, maybe realize what’s happening as more and more people fade away into dust. Mid-step, mid-word, all without warning.

Only two of them aren’t watching people vanish. Peter, who hasn’t taken his eyes off her, and Bucky, who can’t stop looking at his hands.

“I can hear…birds,” he says, frowning. Sam tears his eyes away from the crowd, reaching towards the man’s metal arm. “In Wakanda.”

He turns to dust, leaving Sam’s fingers grasping at air.

“What’s going on?” There’s panic in Peter’s voice. He reaches out, tangling his fingers with hers.

“They’ve done it,. They’ve reversed what Thanos did,” Strange says. He sounds awed, like he can’t quite believe it. Neither can Gamora, and her heart is a smoldering ruin of relief and anguish that they have.

“He’s dead,” she whispers, blinking back a fresh wave of tears. She shed enough of them on Knowhere, when she’d thought she’d managed to put the monster to rest herself. She exhales, feeling the weight of a life lived in torment fall away from her.

When she opens her eyes, she watches T’Challa vanish. Groot turns to look at them, eyes wide with fear. He makes his way over. “I am Groot!” _Mom! Dad!_

Gamora reaches out, and he melts into her touch, cradled between both her and Peter in a hug.

“It’s okay, sweetie.” She can hear the shakiness of her voice. “You’re going to be fine.”

She and Peter nearly bump into one another as he disappears.

“Are they going back?” Spider-Man asks, looking from one adult to the next. “Are _we_ going back?”

She can see Strange nodding in her peripheral, but her eyes are trained to Peter. Her partner, her lover—her _husband_. She thinks he can see the guilt in her gaze, because the fear reflected back at her is all too real.

“That’s fine.” He tries for a nonchalant laugh, but she can tell he’s on edge, nervous. “We’re just gonna go back to where we were, right?’

Gamora doesn’t know what to tell him. She hasn’t a clue what the outside world is going to look like now. If they’ll pick up where they left off, if Thanos changed everything. She glances at the others, who are looking their way. Looking for answers, for reassurance.

It hurts to not be able to give them any.

“I don’t want to.” Wanda closes her eyes, and crumbles away.

Peter squeezes her hand, drawing her attention back to him. “We’ll regroup on Titan. We’ll get the ship, and come get you on Vormir, right?”

She can’t tell which one of them he’s trying to convince. Either way, it brings a sob shuddering out of her. She looks up at him, searching his eyes for understanding, feeling her heart breaking with every second she stares into unflinching hope instead.

“Drax! Mantis!” She calls, voice cracking through both their names. They step closer, near enough she can see their solemn faces and wonder if they know what’s coming, at least. She doesn’t look away from Peter’s face, trying to memorize every small detail she possibly can. “You two take care of him for me, okay?”

“What?” He chokes, and the word is wet, as are his eyes. “Don’t stay that.”

“We will,” Mantis says softly, dipping her head in acknowledgement.

“No.” Peter shakes his head, but the woman still disappears a moment later. It’s his turn to search Gamora’s face, disbelief clear. “No, no, ‘Mora, please.”

The nickname weakens her knees, but she doesn’t give in. Not yet. It’s hard for her to see, but she thinks Drax disappears. Her vision is entirely blurred by tears, her throat raw despite barely raising her voice.

“I’m so sorry, Peter,” she whispers. “I wish we had more time. I wish—I wish we had a lifetime.”

“We do,” he insists, holding tightly to both her hands. “We have the rest of our lives together.”

“Peter, if I was going with you…,” she trails off. “I’d have been first.”

“No.” He’s still shaking his head, this time causing tears to slide down his cheeks.

Gamora can hardly breathe. The weight of everything she wants to say, everything she didn’t think of when reciting her vows, pressing upon her like a vice. There’s no time. There’s barely any at all.

“I will love you, Peter Quill, for the rest of my days.” She barely sounds like herself, voice breaking, uneven. “No matter where I am, or how far apart we are, know that I will never stop loving you.”

She turns his palm over, showing him the band burned into his skin. “Remember me.”

“Gamora,” he manages, but the rest of his words fail him as he crumbles before her. It doesn’t feel like a prayer this time, but a curse.

She falls to her knees, holding her left hand in the palm of her right, staring at the ring on her finger and the band drawn in her skin. She can see Strange’s shoes, and the young Peter’s red suit close by.

“Thank you for this,” she tells Strange.

“It was my pleasure,” he says, and then his voice is lost to the wind, along with the rest of him.

There’s a light touch on her shoulder, and she doesn’t need to look up to know it’s the young Peter Parker.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her. He sounds so sad for someone so young. “This doesn’t seem fair.”

And then he’s gone, too. Turned to ash, like all the rest.

Like the pieces of her fractured heart.

Leaving her alone, sobs wracking her body as she curls into herself, lying down on her side in the middle of the archway.

“Life never is.”

No one’s listening.

* * *

_What did it cost you?_

_Everything._

**Author's Note:**

> Mantis’ powers in the comics involve telepathy, and I’m skewing things a little to say that the soul stone would amplify her abilities in a way that meant she didn’t need to physically touch anyone because she was touching their souls.
> 
> For those who did not notice at the top, this is apparently a series. Because I couldn't decide how to end this fic and so... now there are things. At some point.  
>  ~~That is all goodbye~~


End file.
